The Man's Talk
by Savva
Summary: One werewolf, one Animagus, one vintage bottle of Firewhisky and one hell of a problem. Love, friendship. Eventually Remus Lupin/Hermione Granger via Sirius Black's helping hand. Humour/Romance. AU. OOC.


I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction.

**Hooray for my beta - Glorioux. She is the**** best.**

**__****_Older Men Series – Remus_**

The Man's Talk – Part 1

It was Saturday, around 2:30 in the afternoon, and Sirius was about to have breakfast. Five bacon strips and three eggs were hissing and popping in the pan alluringly, filling the kitchen with the most enticing aroma imaginable. The smell was mouth-watering. Luckily for the wizard, one Muggle born witch had taught him how to cook a proper breakfast several years ago. He had never forgotten since.

Once bacon and eggs were fried deeply and thoroughly, Sirius slithered them onto his plate, poured himself a cup of tea and sat down. A fork and a knife were ready. One last, deep sniff just to tease the senses and his inner canine, and a first piece of bacon sizzling on the edge of a fork began its short journey into the wizard's mouth. Unfortunately, just as the wizard and the bacon were about to merge, a loud knocking at the door interrupted their intimate moment.

"Shit," cursed Sirius. He reluctantly put his beloved piece of bacon back onto the plate and went to answer the door. Three minutes later the wizard was back in the kitchen, followed by his rather sad looking friend, Lupin.

Remus peeked into Sirius' plate and arched his eyebrows in amazement. "It's 2:30 in the afternoon, Padfoot, and you are only into breakfast. What, was it a long night, mate?"

For a moment or so, Sirius silently scrutinized his friend, taking in his rumpled clothes and his red-rimmed eyes. Then, he put one more setting on the table and smacked half of his breakfast onto Remus' plate.

"Eat, mate," he barked and finally, _finally _closed his mouth around the piece of bacon patiently awaiting him. A soft moan of pleasure was born somewhere deep down, possibly in Sirius' soul, and lodged in his throat. Remus, startled by the intimacy and intensity of the moment, blinked a few times, gazing with suspicion at the bacon and at his friend, who by this time was deeply involved in his own bacon and egg relationship.

_Leave it to Sirius, and he will manage to turn something as trivial as a breakfast into a sinful love affair,_thought Remus with envy. Soon, however, the smell of food did its job, and Remus too turned all his attention to the matter at hand.

As is always the case with men, food was consumed rather quickly and no more than ten minutes later both friends finished with their bacon, moving swiftly onto tea.  
"Alright, mate. What is it? Tell me," intoned Sirius between long and languid sips of tea.

"Why do you assume that something is the matter? I am fine," muttered Remus, suddenly becoming especially fascinated with an intricate ornament on his tea mug.  
Sirius sniggered sarcastically. "Yeah, and I lost my virginity last night."

Remus snorted into his tea. "Which one? There is nothing virgin left in you, Padfoot, or within a hundred mile radius around you either, I fear."

"Nah, mate," Sirius wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully," you never know. There is always a first time for something. You know me. I love new, uncharted territories. So, what is going on? Why are you so wound up so early in the day? Tell me?" Sirius fixed his grey gaze on his friend.

Remus' face fell instantly again, and he began nervously fidgeting on his chair. After a minute, however, he sighed, lifted his eyes to Sirius and spoke with urgent intensity, "I love her, Sirius. I love her so much. I am done for, Padfoot. Agh, it doesn't even make any sense. I am too old for all this."

"Wait, wait, Moony, stop babbling like a blondie. You are not quite that cute anymore. By the way, I am as old as you are, and I am most certainly not too old for anything. So, cut out that shit about your age and explain who you are talking about."

"You don't want to know, Sirius, believe me. And, you don't need to know. I am not going to tell you anyway. Plus, I am not going to act on this stupid infatuation. It will die with me." Remus solemnly finished the phrase and drew a long and ragged sigh, probably for a dramatic effect.

There was a short, silent pause, when Sirius watched his friend pensively, as if contemplating something. Then he huffed and darted from the kitchen, yelling to his friend from the corridor, "Wait here and don't move, Moony, or I hex your wolf's bits off."

"Yeah, yeah," chuckled Remus sceptically, obviously not hugely impressed with his friend's threat. In a few heartbeats, Sirius was back, with a triumphant smile on his face and a bottle in his hand. "Here," he said proudly, slamming the bottle of Firewhisky, which was covered with the dust and spiders' webs, on the table, "the best."

Remus' face became even more sour than it had been, and he growled at his friend, "Sirius, honestly, it is still bloody daylight outside. Why did you bring a Firewhisky?"

"You know what, Remus. You are ranting entirely too much – too late for a breakfast, too early for a drink. Is it your time of the month again? And I am not talking about the full moon. Suck it up, bro," and with that Sirius made a strange, downward gesture, oddly spreading his fingers. When his friend's eyes widened in bewilderment, he explained, "Cool, huh? I saw it on Hermione's telly once – RAP."

At the mentioning of Hermione's name, Remus winced, uttered a somewhat peculiar, short howling sound, and urgently snatched the bottle from the table. "All right, let's see what kind of dog's bollocks this is."

"Aye, mate," said Sirius, gently extricating the bottle from his friend's hands. Lovingly, he brushed the dust and webs from the brown glass, which was slightly shimmering through the dust. "Look, Remus, bottled and corked on September of 1979. I am telling you, this babe is the best," murmured Sirius softly under his breath, caressing the bottle with the tips of his fingers. "It's the same September Hermione was born. Interesting coincidence, don't you think?" If Sirius thought to look at Remus at that moment, he would have noticed that his friend's light green eyes changed into amber, and his lips curled up, threateningly baring his teeth. Alas, Sirius continued his perusal of the bottle, all the while muttering something about September and Hermione.

Only when Lupin suddenly sprung up and, yanking him by his shirt, gave him a powerful shake, did Sirius notice his friend's state of agitation. Remus hovered dangerously over utterly confused Sirius. "What are you playing at, Padfoot?" he snarled at him aggressively. "September of 1979, how did you know? Who told you?"

"Hey, easy, mate, easy," grunted Sirius soothingly, and he pressed the bottle to his chest tightly, obviously trying to keep it from harm's way. "I have no idea what are you on about, Remus. Calm down, mate."

Quickly deflated, Remus released his friend's shirt and muttered, "Sorry, Padfoot," and with a defeated groan sank onto his chair again. Their laboured breathing was the only sound in the kitchen, until Sirius guffawed loudly and unexpectedly, earning himself a perplexed glare from his companion. Unfazed by Remus' bothered expression, Sirius smacked his friend's shoulder, and, still laughing, began to speak.

"Moony, you are one dirty werewolf. Why didn't you tell me earlier? Ha-ha! Tell me, how long have you been into her? I want to know. Merlin, you are such a naughty boy, mate. While I've been working hard, trying to catch myself a nice little birdie, you just sat there and kept your perverted wolf's eyes on Hermione. Ha! Well done, mate, well done."

Remus ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, drew another long, hopeless sigh, and said, "Sirius, please, stop torturing me. I am ashamed of myself enough without your comments. I'll go home now." He made an attempt to stand up.

Sirius, however, was quicker and, with one strategically aimed push, forced him back onto his chair. "Honestly, Remus, stop squirming. I have a much better idea. Let's talk over this amber babe here," and he firmly planted the bottle with the Firewhisky on the table again. With one wave of his hand, teacups metamorphosed into glasses, and he poured a generous amount in each of them.

"There. Cheers, mate. For the birds. We need them just like air, and sometimes even more," and Sirius forced the glass into the hands of his brooding mate. There was no sophisticated swirling or slow savouring of the Firewhisky. No, the mission was quite different for now. Thus, both wizards consumed the content in one go, and the moment their glasses touched the table's surface, Sirius filled them up to the rims again.

This time Remus was the first to raise the glass. He didn't say anything. He just impatiently clinked it with his friend's glass. The action caused the amber liquid to spill a little, and so he hurriedly capsized it into his mouth. Then he wrinkled his nose, muttered something and waved his hand. The next instant, a plate with lemon and cheese slices appeared on the table. Sirius, who was not far behind in their Firewhisky contest, grinned appreciatively and plucked a slice of cheese from the plate, immediately putting it into his mouth.

When the wizards had regained their breath after the second portion of the Firewhisky, Sirius gazed questioningly into Remus' eyes and asked, "Are you ready to talk, Moony? Or you need another go?"

"I definitely need another one, Padfoot. Then, I will not be able to talk at all, and you'll finally leave me alone," muttered Remus, slowly chewing the edge of a lemon slice.

Sirius flashed his friend a satisfied smile and murmured, "Ready then." He enthusiastically moved his chair closer to him, put both his elbows on the table and his chin on his knuckles.

"Well," he began, "when did it start and how?"

When Remus didn't answer, keeping his gaze resolutely on the cheese plate, Sirius exclaimed in annoyance, "Oh, come on, mate! Open up!" And then added, "I might be able to help you, by the way. As you know, I have more experience with witches." His mischievous grey eyes began to shine.

Remus groaned, "Yeah, I can imagine how well your advice would work with Hermione." At this Remus actually chuckled. "You would ruin everything even before it started. Nah, mate, thank you very much, but it is a 'no'."

Sirius frowned at his friend, and pouted his lips. "Nonsense, I know perfectly well how to court the witch properly. Start talking, mate."

"Oh, all right. You are such a leech, Sirius. Well, it started long ago. You know how those things are – a gaze, a touch, a sigh here and there, her curls, her eyes, her lips, her scent." And Remus closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, as if recollecting all those delicious things he just listed to his friend. When he opened his eyes again, they were extremely close to amber colour. "Ugh, that bloody moon," he muttered.

Then, after a calming pause, he continued, "I simply ignored the signs, I guess. I didn't want to see them. But, you know how they say, you can run, but you cannot hide. The reality hit me about six weeks ago. Remember one Saturday, when we were playing chess, and Hermione came over in that silk dress of hers. She stood there, on the threshold, with the sun in her hair, looking so damn beautiful, young, and alluring." Remus' breath hitched.

"Perv," snorted Sirius. Next second, however, a low, lupine growl forced him to raise his hands defensively. "Kidding, sorry."

Remus took a little sip of the amber liquid, with which Sirius had once again filled the glasses, and then added, "I just couldn't tear my eyes from her. It was an epiphany. I suddenly knew that I love her. No matter, I decided that I would not act on it. The problem was born anyway, because Hermione has noticed that I've been watching her. Ugh, I am such a dolt. I had been too obvious and you know how clever and astute she is. She caught my eyes on her and smiled at me."

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Sirius exclaimed, "But, it's brilliant, mate. Everything worked out fantastically. You love her. Hermione knows and wants it, or at least she's not against it. Why are you all sad and grumpy then? And why are you here with me drinking my Firewhisky? I don't quite get it, Moony. What's wrong?"

"Let me finish, Padfoot, and eventually you'll get it, I am certain. You see, Hermione went out of her way to demonstrate her interest in me after she caught me staring at her that day. She even initiated a few lunches together. We had a nice time actually but it was all wrong and not fair to Hermione. She is a fine witch, Sirius, but she is not for me. I needed to end it before it went too far, so I-"

"Oh no, Moony, what did you do? You almost had her, you fool. What is wrong with you?" Sirius' groan interrupted him.

"Sirius, look at me. I am forty-four, and she is twenty-five. I am a werewolf, an old, scarred, emotionally unstable werewolf. Don't you see?" Remus yelled loudly, as a fury began to rage in his mind, hazed by Firewhisky.

"I am not a suitable match for her, don't you get it? Listen, yesterday, she invited me to her house for dinner, and I went, I fucking went. I should have said no, but I agreed. Weak, pathetic, I didn't want to make her sad, you know. We had dinner, a bit of wine. We talked and then she just came up to me and said,_' Kiss me, Remus'_. Can you imagine, Padfoot?" Remus stopped for a second to take a breath. "She just stood there with her eyes closed, trusting me and waiting for me to kiss her. And I wanted, Merlin knows, I wanted to kiss her so bloody much. But it was wrong, all of it was wrong. Someone as precious as Hermione was not supposed to end up with someone like me. So I left. Do you see now, Padfoot? It is over. I am done for." Remus fell quiet and swallowed his drink in one desperate gulp.

Sirius did the same and then, after slamming his glass on the table and looking straight into his opponent's eyes, his gaze hard and intense, said, "Damn it, Moony. I see perfectly now – you are a pussy, a right tosser, that is. Bollocks, where is your Marauder's spirit? Where did it go? The girl opened up to you and you rejected her while loving her. Fuck, mate, how could you?"

The atmosphere in the kitchen was thick and heavy, with palpable tension between the wizards and the heady smell of the Firewhisky vapours. Both wizards were deeply engrossed in their thoughts. Suddenly, Sirius literally jumped in his seat. "You know what, Remus. You can fix it." Sirius eyes began to burn excitedly. "Go to her, apologize and confess."

"No," growled Remus, "it is not right. I won't go."

This time it was Sirius, who with a loud snarl, bolted like an arrow and grabbed Remus' shirt by the collar, forcing him to stand up. However, the amount of Firewhisky they had consumed did not mix well with rapid movement and both wizards lost their footing and stumbled on the kitchen floor in a messy heap. There, in a horizontal position, the wizards continued their skirmish, pulling and pushing each other. After a few more moments of muffled swears and exclamations_'You must go and fix it, Moony'_ and _'No, I won't',_along with snarls, growls and the sounds of fabric tearing, the wizards finally came to their senses. Groaning, they scrambled to their feet, both looking ruffled, sloshed and unsteady.

"Go to her, Remus," muttered Sirius.

"It is not right," stubbornly mumbled Remus.

"You must. She trusted you, Moony. You betrayed her trust, rejected her, hurt her. You need to fix it. You know you should," finalized Sirius.

This phrase effectively crumbled the last shreds of Remus' resolve. Light, optimistic flecks of hope found their way to his eyes, and he glanced at his friend and muttered, "You think, she will have me?"

Sirius' face lighted up with a triumphant smile. "Yeah, mate, you have nothing to worry about here. We both know that Hermione is a very kind girl, maybe just a hair too temperamental. She will of course, and quiet rightfully so, hex your family jewels into tomorrow. But, she will definitely fix you and forgive you afterwards. Then again, you are still quite a catch, Moony. Not as handsome and fetching as I am of course, but still fine, mate, still fine." And he patronisingly patted the wizard's shoulder.

Remus nodded enthusiastically. "Alright, I'll go. At the very least, I need to apologize to Hermione. I definitely behaved like a cad. Thanks, Padfoot. See you." He stood up and walked to the Floo, swaying just the smallest bit and stumbling only a few times in a row.

"Wait, Moony, wait. Let me look at you," and Sirius ran after his friend, his movement being somewhat precarious. He caught him already near the Floo in his living room.

Remus turned with a quizzical expression. "What is it?"

Sirius, skidding over the wooden floor, stopped abruptly right in front of his friend. He wobbled slightly and poked his unsteady finger into the wizard. "Firstly," slurred Sirius, "I need to make sure that you look alright. You need to look dashing," and Sirius haphazardly waved his wand at Remus' shirt, ruined during their clash.

"Ah, much better, mate. Secondly," at this Sirius swayed rather dangerously and Remus caught his elbow and steadied him, "don't go through the Floo. The witch won't like it, believe me. You ought to knock, lover boy, as witches appreciate respect. Savvy?"

Remus chortled drunkenly, "Alright, alright, Padfoot, I got it. I am going now. Wish me luck."

With that, Remus, drunk and hopeful, Disapparated toward his destiny – one angry, volatile witch.


End file.
